Lorn - Debris [EP]

If Ninja Tune ever decided to take a class photo of its current line-up, Lorn would most likely be that person whose face you can't quite make out. However, if you look closely enough you'll realise that it's not because of bad lighting, a stray shadow or an unfortunately timed obstruction that got in the way just as the shutter snapped; it is actually just a black hole, or a smear of a face, that is staring right back at you.

If Ninja Tune ever decided to take a class photo of its current line-up, Lorn would most likely be that person whose face you can't quite make out. However, if you look closely enough you'll realise that it's not because of bad lighting, a stray shadow or an unfortunately timed obstruction that got in the way just as the shutter snapped; it is actually just a black hole, or a smear of a face, that is staring right back at you. That's the way that Lorn's industrial doom-step stands out amongst the crème of the alt. electronica scene: as a disturbing but hypnotic anomaly.

After mining the depths of self-imposed solitude for last year's criminally underrated album, Ask The Dust, Debris sees Lorn create another (albeit much shorter) brutal soundscape out of the very same: cold, mechanical crunches, snapping bones of drums, demolition sized bass, and ghostly synths. Coming to him in a burst of inspiration, Lorn describes wanting the sounds of Debris "to physically sound like they were picked out of some wreckage. Some lost caravan out in the desert with a crew of zero." Mission accomplished, I'd say.

Debris' atmosphere of futility is created by the huge amounts of space between the top and bottom parts of the tracks and the discarded scrap heap that's used to build the EP. It all seems to symbolise the immensity of existence and the insignificance of the individual and when taken together, it really heightens your feelings of "no heaven above, no hell below": Debris wedges you in the middle and crushes you with its full weight.

'On The Ice', evokes the earlier work of The Haxan Cloak as thick, obsidian strings punctuate explosions of tumultuous bass beneath you while glimmering synths shower upon you like long-dead stars. 'Bury Your Brother' is basically the sound of the War of the Worlds as bursts of laser-like synths detonate mines of bass that propel you into the air in slow motion. But it all comes to quite an abrupt ending with the funereal title track, which gently washes over you like someone putting a veil over the face of the dead. Is it defeat in the face of battle or reprieve from a meaningless existence? It is an abrupt and unsettlingly ambiguous end to something that hits you with such force.

And herein lies Debris' greatest sticking point: though we live in an age where consumers and musicians alike are readily abandoning the long player format in favour of much shorter releases, you have an artist like Lorn whose best work benefits from having the ability to sprawl out over the course of a whole release. Take for instance his debut album, Nothing Else, whose sole melancholic ray of hope comes at the very end in the form of 'Cherry Moon'. The impact of that song is so much more potent because of the build-up it followed. With Debris, however, the songs have incredibly sudden impact but they don't have the space to show off their full power. As awesome as 'On the Ice' and 'Bury Your Brother' are, they do settle into their ebb and flow a little too quickly after making their fearsome introductions.

Even so, Debris is still an entirely worthwhile listen. It completely envelopes you into its parallel universe even if it spits you back out just as quickly. If you're not already a fan of Lorn then the experience may be too quick and sudden. If you are a fan however, you'll relish the small taste of masochistic pleasure that Lorn consistently gives his listeners… even if it is just made from the scraps.